


The Road Ain't All That Smooth

by deardracula



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deardracula/pseuds/deardracula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being labeled as an angry alcoholic was much better than having a violent streak that included attacking civilians in a blind fit of rage. He hadn't been unprovoked though, and he would have taken that lovely little detail up with the Queen if he had the chance, but no one cared that some nobody had taken an unmoral picture of him, they just cared that said photographer was in the hospital, and it was his fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road Ain't All That Smooth

**Author's Note:**

> Title courtesy of the Rolling Stones.

 

He had him pressed against a wall outside a pub somewhere in Slough where they thought no one would know their names if they hid their faces. Maybe he had too much to drink, even though he was walking in a straight line and his balance wasn't any worse than usual, alcohol just seemed like the perfect thing to blame. He was drunk, it wasn't his fault. Being labeled as an angry alcoholic was much better than having a violent streak that included attacking civilians in a blind fit of rage. He hadn't been unprovoked though, and he would have taken that lovely little detail up with the Queen if he had the chance, but no one cared that some nobody had taken an unmoral picture of him, they just cared that said photographer was in the hospital, and it was his fault.

It had taken him a long time to get to where he was headed towards, month after grueling month of meticulously placed touches and finely tuned words. Maybe if it had been a different day and a different pub and a different life, then he would have been able to find out if Remus' mouth fit as perfectly between his own as it always had in his dreams. But just when he felt Remus relax under his hands and just when he had ducked his head low enough that they were sharing the same hot breath between parted lips, there was a flash. A brilliant white light that caught in Remus' pupils as they dilated in fear because god, someone recognized them and even though it was their own faults, it was just the sort of thing the masses would want to read about. Material they would be able to use as slander, blackmail, or a reason to boycott their music, just when they had been doing so well.

Sirius had pushed him with enough force to send him crashing to the cracking brick under their feet because he was embarrassed or ashamed or scared even though he would never admit to any of that if anyone ever cared enough to ask. He hadn't had time to think because his mind was moving three steps ahead of his common sense when the photographer had taken off in a sprint out of the alleyway and onto the main road. His first thought was to chase after him. To get the camera at any coast because something like that could really put them under. Their album sales would plummet and they would be back to playing in pubs at irregular hours and moving shit equipment out of a shit van on their own like they had been two years prior. They had worked so hard. Too hard to be put off by something so trivial. But he thought about Lennon and how one sentence had set throngs of people off and suddenly their merchandise was being burned in the street just because an unruly number of people thought they had a personal relationship with the son of God. If the bloody _Beatles_ could lose sales over a couple of words, hard evidence of something so many people held as blasphemy could potentially put them out from between the pages of the _Rolling Stones_ forever.

So Sirius chased him through the busy street even though he could see other flashes going off in the dark that was pressing down on them so dauntingly, but he couldn't stop, couldn't still his legs because he was desperate and the only idea that was running though his head was to get the camera and destroy the evidence.

But the police showed up because worried spectators could apparently feel the rage pulsing off him in waves and thought they better report it before the photographer's blood was splattered all over the grown. But it was too late. Camera's captured what words wouldn't be able to as Sirius dragged him to the ground, his knees skidding across the road before his face was pushed down into the asphalt, the cartilage in his nose popping threatening as Sirius kept a fist on his cheek, a knee on his chest, keeping him pressed against the earth.

He didn't remember hearing sirens or seeing the tell-tail bursts of blue light, but suddenly his arms were being yanked behind his back and the distinct click of handcuffs falling into place was deafeningly loud over the blood pounding in his ears.  
  
~~~  
  
"You're such a sodding, moron!" James slammed his fists down on the steel bars in front of Sirius' face. "What was the picture even of? It couldn't have been worth being thrown in jail." Sirius looked down at his cuffed wrists sitting in his lap. "Christ, I hope this doesn't turn into some sort of fiasco." He pinched the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up to meet his unkempt fringe. He shook his head over an internal monologue Sirius couldn't hear, shrugging in annoyance. "I guess I'll go pay your bail." He turned to leave, Peter looking over his shoulder like he was trying to decide whether or not to follow him. Eventually he sighed and slumped against the bars, his blond hair falling into his eyes.  
  
"What was the picture of, mate?" Sirius shook his head. "Well I went with James to go visit the photographer in the hospital, to apologize and such, and he swore that he would have that picture published no matter what."  
  
"Fantastic." Sirius snarled, his cheeks staining red.  
  
"You know, Remus is pretty banged up too. Had to get his skull stapled closed. Was that you too, then?"  
  
Sirius' eyes grew and his face fell. "Is he alright? Has he said anything? Is he livid?"  
  
"He's pretty upset. More sad than livid, I'd say. But when we asked him what happened, he said to ask you." He shrugged again. Sirius cursed, bringing his hands up to cover his face, the chains clattering loudly in the cinder block room.  
  
"I fucked up, Pete. I just-I just wish I thought about shit before I did it."  
  
"Yeah, I think we all wish that."  
  
It was sometime later before James came back into the the room, a man with a key trailing behind him, yanking Sirius violently as he undid his shackles and pushed him into James' chest. "Come on." James nodded to the door, shoving his hands into his pockets as Sirius followed in tow behind Peter, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. "We're going to go see Remus. He's at the hotel, but he was pretty out of it when we left. The sedatives they gave him, you know." James slid in behind the wheel when they reached their van in the parking lot, the hinges holding up the heavy door squealing as Sirius pulled the boot open and climbed in so he was sitting in furthest seat from James and Peter's place in the front. He knew he looked like he was pouting with his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watched the road blaze behind them though the back window, but he didn't care.

He honestly did hope Remus was okay. He always did things like that without thinking. He tried thinking before he acted, he really did, but he couldn't remember a time when anything had ever gone his way.

His chest was fluttering weirdly and his hands felt too big for his arms. He didn't know what he was going to say to him that would explain because he knew nothing he said would make up for it.  
  
~~~  
  
"Maybe you should wait in the hall." James turned to him, the plastic key card hanging from his fingertips.  
  
"What? No, I have to apologize."  
  
"He probably doesn't want to see you right now, mate. I'd be pretty upset if you put staples in my head too, to be honest." James cocked an eyebrow, looking at him over the frame of his glasses.  
  
Sirius looked to Peter, trying to find someone who would take his side, but Peter was studying his shoes with deliberate intensity. "Fine," he shook his head, "just tell him I'm sorry. Ask him if he's alright. I'm going to go get a drink."


End file.
